Signor Pasquale had brought this trouble upon his own pate. We are aware that Salvator and Antonio had favoured Marianna with the most beautiful night-music imaginable, but I have forgotten to add that they went on repeating it on succeeding nights, tremendously infuriating Signor Pasquale; his anger was held in check by the neighbours, and he was silly enough to apply to the authorities to prevent the two painters from singing in Strada Ripetta. The authorities considered it an unheard of thing in Rome to forbid anybody singing whenever he chose, and said it was absurd to demand it. On this Signor Pasquale determined to put an end to the thing himself, and promised Michele a good sum of money if he would fall upon the singers and give them a good cudgelling on the first opportunity. Michele at once provided himself with a big stick, and kept watch every night behind the door. However, it happened that Salvator and Antonio thought it advisable to discontinue the night-music in Strada Ripetta on the nights immediately preceding the execution of their plot, so that nothing might suggest ideas of his enemies to the old man. And Marianna innocently remarked that, much as she hated Salvator and Antonio, she would have been very glad to hear their singing, for their music, soaring on the breeze in the night, surpassed everything. Pasquale took mental note of this, and, as an exquisite piece of gallantry, determined to delight and surprise his beloved with a serenata, composed by himself, and carefully rehearsed with his companions. So the very night before the projected visit to the theatre he slipped secretly out and fetched his two associates, who were prepared beforehand. But no sooner had they struck the first chords on their guitars than Michele (whom his master had unfortunately forgotten to warn of what was going to happen), in high glee at the near prospect of earning the promised reward, burst out at the door, and set to work unmercifully becudgelling the musicians. What happened afterwards we know. Of course it was out of the question that either Splendiano or Pitichinaccio could go with Pasquale to the theatre, as they were lying in their beds covered all over with sticking-plaster. But Signor Pasquale could not refrain from going himself, although his shoulders and back smarted not a little from the licking he had had; every note of his aria was a rope dragging him there irresistibly. "Now that the obstacle which we thought insurmountable has cleared itself out of the way of its own accord," said Salvator to Antonio, "everything depends upon your adroitness in not letting slip, when it comes, the proper moment for carrying your Marianna off from Nicolo's theatre. But you will not fail; and I greet you already as the bridegroom of Capuzzi's beautiful niece, who will be your wife in a few days. I wish you every happiness, Antonio, although it goes to my very marrow when I think of your marriage."